Writing Poetry

I started writing poetry sort of by accident. I was looking for a group on a website called “Join in Aphasia,” they offer dozens of support groups with different themes. I was looking for a group to help with my writing, but nothing fit. But I stumbled into a group who wrote poems to help their recovery. Poetry wasn’t my thing. But now, I don’t know. Sometimes it really resonates.

I was always a left-minded type of guy, rational, orderly, logical. Well, my stroke destroyed some of my left brain, maybe my right brain is picking up the slack, tuning in to the feeling, mystical side? 

But my left side says, wait a minute. You can meditate all you want, but I’m still orderly, schedules still matter. Well, I have one day left in my once-a-month schedule to post something to my blog. And it turns out, I have a couple poems. So here it goes. 

Absorbing Joy

Am I a sponge?

Do I soak things up?
Things dear to me, or sometimes not?
Maybe I’m a dry sponge?
Locked up tight, no water allowed.
The answer is:  Yes, yes, yes, to all of that

I am a sponge,
And things around me ooze in.
They affect my life for good and bad.
Bad things can cause me to lock down,
And I become a dry sponge.
Dry, dry, dry. 

Help, I’m locked down.

Do I open up?
Do I open up to face that bad?
Do I open up to absorb the good?
Yes, yes, yes, to all of that

I will face the bad to experience the good
Absorbing peace and joy and hope and love
Until my life is saturated by the good.

But then a hand appears  
And my life is wringed dry.
Why, why, why?

The answer comes: so others can absorb what I absorbed.
Pass it on. Like those around me did.
Now you are ready to absorb again.
Wow, what a cool rhythm that has. 
Absorb, and pass it on, absorb, and pass it on.
I want to do that.  Yes, yes, yes. 

That is what sponges do. 
More water please. I need to start anew. 

The idea for the second poem started at church, I was just sitting in a pew thinking about life. The pastor was reading the scripture for the sermon. And one phrase really resonated in my brain. “Strengthen what remains.” I’ve been thinking about those words for a while. I’m not sure if the poem is very good, but the idea of strengthening what remains describes well that I have been trying to do.

Strengthen what remains

“Wake up! Strengthen what remains.”   (Rev. 3.2) 
Said to a church who was at the brink of death.

It reminds me of the adage, 
When you are digging a hole for yourself, 
The first thing you have to do is: stop digging.
If not, the hole you’re in will lead to death. 
But if you strengthen what remains
it can turn around and will lead to life.

But what remains when you’re in a hole?
Great question, with a robust answer.

Said to another church who was dealing with things too,
“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.”    (1 Cor 13.13)

Love remains
The people I love are still here,
The people who love me are still here.
Love remains

Hope remains
Hope for me as I live my life now, 
And the longing hope for the world to come. 
Hope remains

Faith remains
Faith in me, not so much,
But my faith in God has blossomed. 
Faith remains

Said to a man who was in a hole.
These three remain, faith, hope and love
Wake up, stop digging and strengthen what remains.